Inked Glory
by curbstomped
Summary: Phil Brooks was used to the world clamoring at his feet. That was, until he met someone who changed everything. Punk/OC, plus a few others. May be mature at times.
1. Chapter 1

So, because of my writer's block with The Making Of, take this Punk fic for what it's worth, lol.

* * *

Reagan Jones never really had the capacity to deal with bullshit. She ran her own tattoo shop and had a rotating cast of artists because of her inability to deal with petty fights and arguments. She liked it better that way, though, and the ones that stuck around just did their job and kept to themselves for the most part. After all, she had a reputation to maintain; Second City Tattoos & Piercings was quickly becoming one of the most noted tattoo shops in the Mid-West, and she would be damned if egos got in the way of that.

It was a rather quiet Saturday night for Reagan; especially with the Cubs in town and people generally about and making shotgun decisions well into the night. She bopped her head to the music coming through the speakers, singing along as she continued to sketch an idea that had she had been stuck on for the past few days. A proud peacock, though the purple haired woman could not seem to get the legs just right, and furiously erased at the paper until the bell on the door chimed. It wasn't until she heard a voice that she picked up her head.

"Hey, are you a tattoo artist around here?" The man asked rather gruffly as Reagan looked him over.

"Nope, I'm a chef." She responded sarcastically, trying to figure where in the world this lanky guy would have left to put more ink. "I'm Reagan, I own Second City; what can I do you for?" She asked as she stood up from her stool.

"Didn't know this was a comedy bar as well…I've got this idea and I need someone to ink it. My usual guy closed up shop, and everyone says this is the best place in the area. Can you do it, Reagan?" He asked with a roll of his eyes.

"If you tell me your name, sure. Or else I'll call you Grumpy Gills." She chuckled to herself as the green eyed man huffed.

"I'm Phil, now could you please tattoo my thigh, Miss Manners?" He quipped.

"Since you asked so nicely...Follow me to my chair." The woman waved her hand and sauntered over to the back of the shop. Phil stroked his chin as he walked along with Reagan, eyes fixed on the tattoos on the back of her arms, and one poking out from under her shirt.

"Y'know, for a tattoo artist, you don't have that much ink." He quipped as they went to sit down. Phil was used to much more fanfare in his presence, but he'd take it.

"Not much that you can see." Reagan teased, though unable to keep a straight face. "I get tattooed when I'm inspired. I just haven't had that much inspiration lately…Though, it looks like you've been plenty inspired, Phil." Reagan scanned over the design he had and began to trace it out on the transfer paper.

"…Was that a compliment?"

"Whatever you need it to be, Phil." She said, and looked up with a smile; eyes locked momentarily. There was something about him that looked familiar and well, intriguing all at once. Trying to avoid any more awkward silence, Reagan stood up and straightened out her shirt. "I'm gonna go and mix the ink, you stay put, alright?" She said before making her way further back in the shock. Phil raised a brow at her and watched as she walked away, not quite sure what to make of the tattoo artist.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for being so patient with this one! I apologize for the chapters being short; it's not usually my style but, here we are. Thanks to Taylor for her help, as always! Please feel free to give any suggestions or comments, I don't mind :3

* * *

"So, I took a few liberties in the details of this one, if you don't mind that. The colors are all the same; I'm not going to make it pink or anything." Reagan joked as she walked back with the ink and began to adjust her needle. Phil leaned over and looked at what she had ultimately drawn out and raised his brow as he looked back at the woman. The purple haired woman caught his glances and chuckled. "You look a little nervous there."

He shook his head with an incredulous look on his face. "Oh, please, I'm not worried. I'm the last person that would be worried about a tattoo; that's well documented." He said, his arms on his knees.

Reagan rolled her eyes. "Well shit, I didn't know I was tattooing the fucking Mayor of Chicago…Or someone with an ego the size of Chicago." She said with a huff. "Could you take your shirt off so we can get started? We're gonna be here a while."

Phil smirked and made a show of it and took his shirt off slowly, not breaking eye contact with the tattoo artist as he laid back. "You really don't know who I am, huh?" Reagan responded with a shake of her head as she pressed the transfer paper to his chest; uncomfortably face to face with her frowning client.

"Have you ever heard of CM Punk?" He asked, looking at her as if she had two heads.

"Nope, is that you?" She asked as she rolled away and went to her needle.

"Yeah, that's me. I wrestle—well, used to wrestle."

"Oh, like that WWF shit? I don't have cable. Well, good for you, then. That must make you feel special." She remarked with a laugh as she started up the needle and went to his chest.

"I'll have you know that I…" Phil sighed and realized just how ridiculous he sounded. "I was popular for a while." He sighed dejectedly.

"I'm sure you were a big deal; I'm just not up on pop culture." She said and looked up at the bearded man, trying not to crack a smile. "I'm sure you were great."

Phil nodded. "I was, then—Wait a fucking minute, are you laughing?" He sat up and it was then that Reagan couldn't keep up the charade and began to bust out laughing.

"Nope, lay back down, Mr. Punk…My God, I was seeing how long I could keep on fucking with you." She chuckled and gave him a smile. "We're in Chicago, Phil, not Bumblefuck, North Dakota, of course I know who you are; the homeless dude outside my apartment knows who you are."

"That was…shit, you had me." Phil said with a laugh and looked over Reagan once more.

"I'm pretty good at bluffing…and stop laughing! You're cute when you laugh, but unless you want a crooked skull, you gotta keep still for me, alright?" Reagan said, her cheeks flushed as she felt his green eyes on her.

"That was…not subtle at all, but I can deal with it."

"Well, we've got a few hours together, so you're gonna have to." She joked as she continued on, her bottom lip between her teeth in concentration.


	3. Chapter 3

**You guys have been incredibly patient in waiting for this update, and I apologize for not getting it out sooner. Muses are finnicky and so am I :P Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

A few weeks had passed since Reagan and Phil's initial encounter, though it didn't feel much like it. They had been texting back and forth, which would've been normal for the tattoo artist; clients would text with any questions they had about after care, but their conversations extended beyond that. Reagan thought it was a bit odd and wasn't used to the attention, but she wasn't altogether that mad about it. He was friendly enough and she didn't really talk to people much beyond friendly idle chat in the shop. Many people pegged the quiet Reagan as grumpy, and she very well could be, but she just preferred calling it selective. A light buzz cut through her zoning out at the front desk, and couldn't help but smile as she saw a message pop up.

 _ **Phil:** I haven't heard any police sirens on North Ashland, so I'm guessing all is well on your end?_

Chuckling to herself and drawing a few stares from her colleagues, she quickly tapped back.

 _ **Reagan:** For now, yeah. But there's still another hour…How is training?_

"Shit, boss lady, was there an Addams Family marathon on last night? You've been smiling nonstop." A thick accent brought her back to reality. Reagan turned her hardened face and furrowed her brow.

"I can't just be in a good mood, Will?"

The heavily pierced young man looked on either side of his boss and shook his head. "You don't have coffee, so no." He laughed. "It's nice not to see you all doom and gloom, though. Whatever is causing this better keep up."

The pastel-haired woman rolled her eyes, and before she could come up with a response, her phone rang repeatedly. "Sit here for a minute, okay?" She asked her employee before answering the phone and heading outside quickly.

"After three rings you answer? Wow, Miss Jones, I should be offended." Phil joked on the other line.

"I'm a very important person, Mr. Punk." Reagan quipped, scrunching up her nose with a smile as she sat down in front of the shop. "Was training not okay or something?"

"Training actually didn't happen today. Duke had family stuff come up, so he called it off. Though, two Cubs tickets just, you know, happened to fall out of the sky and into my lap, and I was hoping that the most fascinating woman in Chicago would like to come with me." He flirted as he slipped on a pair of sneakers.

"Hate to break it to you, Phil, but Mrs. O'Leary died about a hundred years ago…" She teased and kicked at the sidewalk in front of her.

Phil huffed with a laugh and shook his head. "As much as I'd love to recreate Weekend at Bernie's, that really wasn't who I was shooting for. C'mon, Reag, let go of the reins a bit and come with me…There's all the French fries you could possibly want in it for you."

"You make a convincing argument…Bring me a jersey and you got a deal." She chewed on her bottom lip and stood up from her seat.

Phil lit up like a Christmas tree when she accepted and darted back to his closet, his dog following behind curiously. "Then it's a date. I'll be at the shop in ten." He said before hanging up.

Reagan's eyes went wide…A date? Sure, they had been talking and there was some pretty obvious flirting, but she didn't really do dates, per say. It was usually just dinner, fucking and maybe repeat, depending on how good the guy was. There wasn't any bonding, any getting to know you crap; she really didn't find many people worth her time, at least she felt that in the least egomaniacal way. This time, though, she wanted to get to know Phil. She enjoyed his nerdy, corny jokes, the crinkles near his eyes when he smiled in a picture and the cheesy good morning texts, which seemed really out of character for someone like him. Hell, it was out of character for someone like her to even enjoy getting good morning texts, but there they were. It took a bit for Reagan to get out of her comfort zone; it was damn near impossible most times, but for Phil, she could try it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the wait, everyone. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"So, you're seriously just going to take some girl to the Cubs game over me? So much for friendship, Phil." Colt huffed as he sat on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Phil, meanwhile, sifted through his closet in his bedroom until he found a jersey that wasn't completely worn to hell.

"Colt, I hate to break it to you, but you're just not my type." He called with a laugh as he walked out to the living room to meet his grimacing friend. "How many times have I played lookout for you so you could hook up with a ring rat, huh?" He questioned, raising his brow at him knowingly.

His friend simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Apples and oranges, Brooks. This tattoo artist chick, Clinton—"

"—Reagan."

"Right, Reagan…is she worth all this? God, is she a Republican?" He mused. The tattooed man picked up one of the dog toys off the floor and chucked it at Colt's head, making him flinch and Larry dart toward the couch.

"I didn't get into her political affiliations, jackass. Even if she was, it wouldn't matter…She's great. She's low key, funny, I think there could be something." He said with a smile.

"And you'll ride a horse into the sunset like you did with April…Look how that turned out. All I'm saying is not to get too hasty, brother. I usually trust your judgment, but with this aspect of life, I question it for your own sake."

"Look, Colt, I appreciate you looking out for me and all that, but I'm a big boy. If I fall on my face, I fall on my face, at least I tried. What's the worst that could happen after the game; she gets hit by a baseball and never calls me again? Reagan seems like a decent person who isn't obsessing over who I am or who I used to be, and there's just…something man, I can't describe it. I want to try, and if it fails, you can have bragging rights and my season tickets." He said, his eyes bright as his friend initially looked at him like he had seven heads.

"You're right. You're a big boy, go do big boy things…I'll dog sit." Colt joked as he picked up the tiny dog.

"Out." He said pointedly. "And leave the dog." He smiled before heading out the door and down to the tattoo parlor.

After a few minutes, the bell above the door of the tattoo parlor rang, and Reagan's head perked up like a dog. She grinned wildly and dropped the appointment book in her hand, causing one of her tattooists to look up and shake his head.

"Ready to go?" He asked, cocking his head to the side and looking over the girl that had been on his mind for weeks. As cheesy and campy as it sounded, she looked even more beautiful than the day he met her. Reagan nodded, grabbing her bag from under the counter and giving notes to the head tattoo artist before she locked arms with the brunette and walked out the door.

"Before I forget…" Phil paused as they walked, and handed her a jersey. Reagan rolled her eyes and took the jersey, taking the time to button it. "Now it's a date. I don't think that jersey has looked better."

"You are ridiculous…Thank you, Phil." Reagan said as a blush crept on her cheeks.

Soon enough, they made it to Wrigley Field and sat in their seats. After a few snacks and idle chat about the game, it was Reagan who not so subtly slid her hand into Phil's callused one on his leg. Something about him made the normally stand-offish woman comfortable. He raised a brow but didn't question it and laced his fingers with hers. Another hour passed and the game ended in a win for the home team, the two of them clapping and celebrating before they walked out.

"So, do you have time in your busy schedule for some Chinese?" Phil asked, looking over Reagan with a shit eating grin on his face.

"You are very proud of yourself, aren't you? Yes, my pressing schedule allows for Chinese food." She smirked back and squeezed his hand as they walked back to his apartment.

Phil dropped his hat on his kitchen counter and quickly shuffled through his menus. "Uh, make yourself at home…That's Larry, he's the vicious guard dog." He said as the dog sniffed at Reagan's shoes. The softy for animals that she was, she picked up the dog and quickly began licking her face.

"Oh, vicious indeed." She laughed as she walked around the apartment and sat on the couch, looking around at the décor. "Jeez, talk about a man cave." The violet-haired woman let the dog rest in her lap as she flipped through her phone; a few of her coworkers sending both inquiring and encouraging texts.

"Well, I am a man…What do you want?" He asked, leaning over the back of the couch before sitting next to her. He quickly called after he got her order and nudged Reagan. "He seems to dig you."

"I mean, the dog's made a move faster than you have." She blurted and quickly covered her mouth. The tattooed man made a face. "I'm sorry, that just…that was rude." She cringed.

"No, it was honest…I guess I should step up, then." He said, then leaned over and kissed Reagan slowly. She took her time with responding back to it, mostly due to the shock as she grabbed at his hair. It was one of those things that deep down she needed, but always pushed down because of the timing. Reagan deepened the kiss and turned to climb into his lap, turning off her brain for a moment and giving in. Phil was the first to pull away for air and let his hands fall naturally at her waist.

"That was definitely a step up. Uhm…I guess this is a good time to tell you that I like you." Reagan chuckled and looked into his green eyes.

"No shit, really?" He laughed. "I like you, too, Reagan. You're…well, I'm still trying to figure you out, but I like a good mystery now and then. You're worth it."

"Well, I'll make sure of that." She smirked, and went to kiss him once more before the doorbell interrupted them. Reagan reluctantly got off of him as he went to the door, his eyes never leaving her with the biggest grin on his face.


End file.
